Saturated fats are known to raise cholesterol. High levels of LDL cholesterol are known to increase the risk of heart disease and stroke. The American Heart Association recommends a daily intake of 13 grams of saturated fat per day.
Oh thank heaven, for 7-Eleven.
7-Eleven says fuck that shit!
Double down on your death rate and devour them both yourself, or share with a friend, and put a dent in their life expectancy as well. Either way, 7-Eleven will be happy to give you a discount if you’d like to hasten the artery clogging.
Statins are a class of drugs used to lower cholesterol. In 2003, atorvastatin became the best selling drug in pharmaceutical history. Pfizer reported sales of 12.4 BILLION of their statin in 2008. And is it any wonder? That 7-Eleven iced honey bun is almost two days worth of saturated fat in one sitting. And if you take advantage of their special, you get three and a half days worth in one sitting.
I’m fairly certain that a steady diet of these things would have serious repercussions. But I’ll take a statin and taste test one of these things myself.
So let’s spend $1.29 to shorten our lifespan just a bit … shall we?
I enter a downtown 7-Eleven on my way to work. The inside of the store is pretty disgusting. The floor sticky and stained with splotches of spilled Slurpee. The smell an overwhelming blend of bleach and Baltimore.
I rifle through the selection of 7-Eleven iced honey buns looking for the freshest. The packaging claims they are a “soft pastry” so I make sure I get one that is at the peak of goodness. Of course, I’m not really sure what constitutes fresh with something that is, by and large, a processed product. I settle on one that has an expiration date of 9/20/14.
I wait in line behind several people buying lottery tickets. The delay gives me time to reconsider. But, yet, as I move closer to the register and place my item on the counter, I get a reassurance by the message on the credit card machine.
“YOUR TASTEBUDS WILL THANK YOU”
My tastebuds will thank me. How do I pass that up? With that, I lay down my two dollars and am handed back seventy-one cents. The clerk asks if I need a bag for my purchase. I ponder how having a bag would make my life easier. Does having a handle really increase my convenience that much over just holding a single item in my hand? I decline the bag, in part because I fear it might not cradle this “soft pastry” properly. I don’t want the “honey swirls and sweet icing” squished into the wrapper.
Breakfast time. I set the 7-Eleven iced honey bun in front of me. Upon closer inspection, there appears to be a troubling moisture buildup inside of the cellophane. I tell myself that it is actually the sweet honey icing that I’m seeing. I’m having a hard time convincing myself of this.
It claims to have natural and artificial flavors. I flip the package over looking for anything that could be construed as a “natural” flavor.
Enriched Flour Bleached. Vegetable shortening (including palm oil, mono and diglycerides and polysorbate 60). Titanium dioxide color. Guar gum. Guar gum? Yes, Guar gum, which thickens water infinitely better than cornstarch and is disappointingly in no way associated with the thrash metal band.
I do find a few things that sound like natural flavors in the section listing items that amount to less than 2% of the product. Dried honey. Cinnamon. That is it. Everything else appears to need an advanced chemistry degree and several hours on wikipedia to determine the true properties. There is also a honey “flavored” powder in it too, but that appears to be mostly cane refinery syrup.
I can’t concern myself with these details I decide to just go for it. I peel open one end of the wrapper.
Ugh! The smell. Just opening the end releases a sickening waft of sweetness. It really is overpowering.
I reach my fingers in to extract the “soft pastry” from the wrapper. Everything is wet inside. I set the package down and lay a napkin down on my desk before pulling the 7-Eleven iced honey bun fully from the package. When I have it removed, I am horrified. My fears of icing sticking to the wrapper were totally unfounded. The icing has the consistency of Elmer’s Glue. There is no way this could stick to anything.
I move the 7-Eleven iced honey bun to the right side of my napkin. When I do, it reveals a soggy napkin. Apparently it’s not just the icing that is moist.
At this point, the icing is really freaking me out. I wonder what is lurking beneath that thick spread. The icing accentuates the shape of the pastry beneath, and not in a pleasant way. My mind wanders. My appetite and my resolve are quickly waning.
I can’t look at the icing anymore. I need to get a look at what the “soft pastry” looks like. I flip it over. I’m horrified. It looks just as wet as the top did. Droplets of something glisten. The shape is still disconcerting.
I pick it up and hold it in front of me. The aroma does not indicate “sweet satisfaction guaranteed”. Rather, it screams, you are going to pay dearly for this later. The smell triggers some type of warning defense in my brain. “Hey, that noxious scent is my signal not to cram that thing into your mouth.”
I half heed the alarms my brain is sending out and take a tentative bite.
Noooo! Get it out of my mouth. Oh, this is awful. I chew. I move it around from one side to the other. The taste just spreads out and fills my mouth. I want to spit it out. I fear swallowing. It congeals into a glob of unrecognizable flavor as my brain sends out signals to abort this meal.
I finally swallow.
I sit there for a bit, looking at it, wondering how I can take another bite. My tastebuds have sent a message back to my brain wondering what just went wrong? “How could you let that happen?” they scream.
Every warning sign was there not to eat this concoction. But I did it anyway. I’m not sure I can take a second bite though.
I’d rather eat vegetables. For anyone who knows me, that is a strong statement, for I do not eat vegetables. I loathe green beans. I would sooner eat a plate of green beans. I would sooner eat wax beans. I would sooner eat any vegetable than take another bite of that.
I fold a napkin over the moist glistening remains of the 7-Eleven iced honey bun. I then wrap another napkin around that. And another. I dump the whole mess into my trashcan. I can still smell it. I walk down the hall to the bathroom and dump the whole mess in there.
At this point, there is only one thing left to do.